


Just Relax

by captaincanarynsfw (flabbergabst)



Series: Captain Canary After Dark [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Just filthy, close your eyes - Freeform, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flabbergabst/pseuds/captaincanarynsfw
Summary: Oh, the things Sara would do.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Series: Captain Canary After Dark [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1137911
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Just Relax

**Author's Note:**

> A finished work that's been kept for MONTHS. Enjoy.

There’s tension in his shoulders.

Coiled tight, pent-up like a steam pipe, over-pressured and ready to burst. He’s stiff, too, with an ache deep in his bones and a pounding in his head. It’s the end of the day, late at night. Leonard can feel the caffeine in his system drying up, and that, mixed with the stressful shitshow that was today, makes him really want to do nothing but go home and sleep for the next twelve hours.

Or get drunk. He’s leaning more towards the latter option, right now. That wasn’t the case before.

He’d fucked up a heist. Well – not him, specifically, but Mick called in for a quick favor--a little thieving for good old sakes--and unexpectedly brought more crew than he expected. Therefore, they fucked up.

So. Needless to say, it’s been a sucky day – and it would be complete and utter shit if it weren’t for Sara, who trails behind him as he shambles into their apartment and drops his keys on the counter with a _clatter_. Leonard exhales sharply, shrugging off his jacket and tossing that over the back of one of the chairs, too.

“Drink?” he asks, as he makes his way over to the kitchen bar, rolling up his sleeves.

“I’m good,” Sara yawns, kicking off her shoes and strolling into the kitchenette. “Got anything to heat up?”

He pours himself a glass and gulps half of it down half immediately, welcoming the burn of the liquor in his throat. “Ziti, in the fridge. I’ll get it.”

Half-asleep, Leonard walks over to the fridge, pulls out the little glass container with ziti in it, and tosses it into the microwave, hitting a few buttons and then listening to the resulting hum. He grimaces at the pounding in his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a scowl, and Sara, who is standing beside him at the counter, notices.

“Babe, you okay?”

Her voice is gentle, deep blue eyes flickering with concern. He tries to summon up some kind of reassurance for her, that he’s fine, just tired, but it’s been too long and too miserable of a day for him to bother putting up a front for her sake. Besides, she’ll get more mad with him not telling her about the heist rather than him keeping info from her.

“Fine,” he mutters, without looking at her. “Long day.”

“You’re stressed,” she observes, walking up behind him and curling her arms around his middle. She stands on her tiptoes slightly and nuzzles her nose into the back of his neck, inhaling a breath of his cologne. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened with the heist. Yes, Mick told me. Said he was sorry.”

“Still. The heist was fucked. I haven’t had a good heist with the police on my trail, and trust me, that’s not a fun place to be.” Sara slips her hands into the back pockets of his slacks, leaning into him, and the gentle press of her body is enough to make him loosen up, somewhat. He lets out a breath. “But we don’t have to talk about it. For both our sanities.”

Sara makes a sympathetic little noise in the back of her throat, still looking unconvinced, then moves back. “I’m gonna go change. Be right back.”

He nods, and she disappears into the next room. After a minute or so the microwave beeps, and he reaches up to open it, pulling out the ziti. He’s just about to start spooning it onto two plates when, suddenly, he feels two little hands slipping into his back pockets again. Groggy as he is, he jumps before he can remember that it’s only Sara, and turns his head back to look at her.

“Jesus, assassin” he chuckles. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He takes another brief look back at her and finds that she’s dressed in his blue bathrobe, which positively dwarfs her small frame and swallows her right up. Her hair is disheveled from the long day, her makeup smudged, a lazy little grin playing at her lips. However, it’s the mischief in Sara’s eyes that catches his attention – and when he feels her hands pull out of his pockets and creep around to his front, tracing the cool leather of his belt, he raises an eyebrow.

“Just what do you think you’re doin’?” he teases, not at all disapproving of this course of action she’s decided on tonight.

Since he’s facing away from her, toward the counter, he can’t see the look on Sara’s face, but he can imagine that she’s smiling now, and gnawing at her lower lip, like she always does when she gets frisky. Her hands creep lower, and then lower still, to ghost over his groin, and in the back of his mind he pictures the way her front teeth always dig into her lip when she bites it, leaving entrancing little marks behind; and the way her eyes light up and dance. That thought, coupled with the feeling of her hands and the way she’s pressing her body against him from behind, is enough to make him start to stir in his slacks, the fog of exhaustion clearing from his mind.

“Helping you relax,” Sara purrs, then lowers her voice to a more serious tone and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “You had a bad day. Let me… make it better.”

Smirking, he turns to face her finally, and finds Sara with a genuine little smile on her face, pupils dilated. She hadn’t tied his robe around her waist securely at all, and it has parted down the middle, revealing the delectable curves of her breasts and the valley between them. Leonard swallows heavily at the sight and opens his mouth to say something, but she cuts him off by reaching down and cupping him over his slacks. She palms him, strokes him just like she knows will drive him crazy, all the while looking in his eyes without a word. Quickly he feels himself harden in her hand, growing longer and thicker as all the blood in his body rushes to his cock in seconds until he’s straining against the fabric.

She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him as she works, and after she pulls away, his smirk grows wider. “You really know how to cheer a thief up, you know.”

“Damn right I do,” she replies, voice lilting almost musically.

With nimble fingers, Sara reaches up just then, undoes his belt, then makes similarly short work of his zipper, until she’s freed his cock and taken it into her hands. That sudden, direct contact is enough to make him grunt lowly, and, driven on by the sound, Sara leans in again, laying wet kisses on his neck and giving him a series of firm pumps, until he’s rock-hard and throbbing. He doesn’t know what she’s got planned for him tonight, and he’s just about to ask if she intends to just get him off right here, right now, rather unceremoniously like this – when all at once Sara draws back, reaches past him, and grabs the kitchen towel hanging on the oven door in one swift motion. Then, she grabs ahold of his cock again, taking a step back and giving him a little tug forward like a dog on a leash, beckoning him to follow.

“Come on,” Sara breathes, licking her lips. “Let’s take this to the couch.”

The towel in her hand, ostensibly for clean-up, the look in her eyes, the devilish grin on her face… It’s all he needs to see to know that this is about to get really fucking messy.

Really fucking messy, and really fucking _hot_.

Leonard hasn’t always been prone to be led around figuratively by his dick, sure, but to be _literally_ led by his dick, and by Sara at that, is so incredibly arousing that it makes his world pulse red around the edges, drives him half-mad. The hammering of his own heartbeat is all he can hear, silencing every other noise as Sara stops in front of the couch, drops the towel on the floor next to her, makes off with his slacks until they lay around his ankles, and then places two hands firmly on his chest, pushing him back. He lands in a sitting position, with his cock standing up large and dark in his boxer-briefs, at attention.

Sara looms over him in silence for a moment, rubbing her lips together, and then, with another few, precise movements, the ties on her robe come undone, falling away. All she has to do is shrug to send it tumbling off, exposing her slim, magnificent body beneath. It never fails to make him salivate: her pert, round little breasts; the gentle curves of her hips; the shaved, bare mound between her legs, where her thighs meet, and the thought of what lies just beneath. It takes his breath away, and Leonard lets out a low whistle, leaning back against the couch with a wolfish grin.

“Holy fuck.”

Sara lowers herself onto his lap, smiling and running her fingers through his short hair. The smile falters, however, when he dips his head to suckle at one of her breasts and hum around the hardened nipple, sampling her flesh like the most scrumptious dessert he’s ever had.

“I know, I know. You’re wondering how you got so lucky.”

Hell fucking _yes_ he is. Leonard gives a low sound of agreement against her breast, which morphs into one of disappointment quickly when Sara pulls back, out of reach. But that doesn’t last long at all, because within moments she is maneuvering herself off his lap instead, and sinking down onto her knees before him. Her hands go for his boxer-briefs, peeling them down as he aids her by shifting upward slightly, and soon those are gone too, allowing her complete and total access to his cock, nothing in the way. And the sight of Sara on her knees, licking her lips again, sizing him up with undeniably hungry eyes… Christ, he could almost come from that alone. It’s his every filthy fantasy come to life. It’s everything.

 _Sara_ is everything. She’s fucking _perfect_.

She starts slowly, with her hands, exploring his length with nimble fingers, over the prominent veins in his cock, down the shaft, then lower, to his balls, which she cups and caresses tenderly. And he’s a tease, of course, but Sara has him equally matched, with her whisper touches and wet, shiny lips that look so ready and so eager to take his cock. He swallows heavily, the tip of his dick glistening already with pre-come, aching and thrumming like a live wire for her – and before he can think twice:

“Please,” he gives a strained groan, as her hands explore him and her eyes torment him, but she still refuses to move in with her mouth. “Fucking… please, Sara.”

It’s the sound of her name that seems to urge her on. She doesn’t answer, but her eyes light up, then narrow again, and she shifts on her knees, pressing her thighs together, no doubt to create some friction there. It gets her hot, he knows, when she sees how hard she makes him, how much she turns him on. How _bad_ he needs it.

She loves it. And so, finally, Sara leans in, drops her jaw, parts those sweet, soft lips, and takes him into her mouth.

As soon as she does, he’s gone; in both body and mind. It’s all he can feel, hot and wet and like goddamn silk, closing around him so divinely; everything else fades away, to a distant greyness in the background. It’s even better than being inside her, with the added bonus of her wicked little tongue which she utilizes in all the right ways, swirling around his cock like it’s one of the lollipops she always seems to be sucking on around STAR Labs. The feeling, and the soft sounds she makes around him – not obscene slurps, but ones that are just loud enough to hear, alternating with muffled moans – loosen a long, guttural moan of his own from his throat. He leans his head back against the couch, gritting his teeth as the pressure builds, and Sara keeps going, goddamn relentless, urging more and more of his cock into her mouth until he can feel himself almost in her _throat_.

Still, undaunted, Sara continues on, taking more of him, not even batting an eye, though he can see her eyes start to tear up faintly from the girth in her throat.

“ _Fuck_.” The words burst out of his mouth before he can help it, almost infantile babbling. “God, Sara… Christ-”

It’s all so much, so stimulating. Borderline overwhelming. The sight of her is what really does Leonard in, with her red, swollen lips wrapped around him, her bare breasts, her flawless body, all of her… He’s dangerously close to the edge, teetering on that precipice of ecstasy, moaning freely now, but he doesn’t give a fuck about how he sounds, because all he can do is _feel_. He has to struggle not to grab at Sara’s hair, lest he make her gag or hurt her, and so he satisfies himself with stroking it instead, tucking strands behind her ear lovingly as he watches her, captivated.

“Fuck, you’re amazing. You’re… so fucking perfect. Just… ‘m gonna-”

Sara’s eyes flick up to look at him, warming slightly at the praise. He’s so close, so fucking close, his release so pent-up that he’s bound to erupt at any moment, and her looking up at him just pushes him closer still, until-

Without warning, Sara pulls back.

The sudden rush of cold air on his dick, and the torturous loss of contact as he slides out of her the warm haven of her throat, makes him groan desperately. His eyes fly open, glancing down at her with confusion and something almost like anger, finding her only connected to his cock now by a silk-like strand of saliva from her mouth. He’s about to beg again – because maybe that’s what she wants tonight, though she doesn’t appear to – when her hands take the place of her mouth unexpectedly, and she leans in closer so that he bobs heavily near her neck and breasts, the smooth fields of flesh unsullied, clean.

“On me,” she pants like it’s an order, and that – the sight of Sara on her knees, eyes wide, telling him to come on her, _all over_ her – is what finally sends him reeling.

She strokes him through it, as he lands in hot streams on her neck, breasts, collarbone – even on her chin and lips, which she licks clean like she can’t get enough of his taste, and _fucking Christ_ , the sight only makes him come harder. It’s so different than finishing in her mouth; wild, untamed, messy as hell, and _hot._ So unimaginably hot he almost doesn’t remember to breathe.

When he comes back down, and his vision stops spinning, Leonard finally gets a good look at her. Just as he’d known she would be, she’s positively covered in him, gifted with a pearl necklace and a few wayward dribbles on her chin, a glistening drop beside her mouth. For a long moment, all he can do is marvel at the sight, unholy and majestic – and it’s so filthy, _she’s_ so filthy, and coated with him.

She’s never looked so completely, totally, irrevocably _his_.

He’d like to stay like that and take in the sight of her like that forever, but after a minute or so Sara reaches for the towel she’d had the good sense to procure beforehand and wipes herself clean, panting. She still hasn’t said anything, but she’s flushed from head to toe, every inch of her burning bright red, and he doesn’t have to check to know that she’s sopping wet; the way she squirms and squeezes her thighs together for the umpteenth time is enough for him to know for sure.

“Shit,” he manages to say, a dumb grin on his face as he urges her back up, into his lap. “You’re _way_ too good at that.”

Sara smiles back, equally breathless. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he purrs, sucking at her neck and trying, almost subconsciously, to leave marks where his come had coated her; ones that will last for days, maybe a week “After that, I have to steal a real pearl necklace for you.”

She feigns surprise. “Just pearls? I was thinking more along the lines of… diamonds.”

“Whatever you want,” Leonard promises between kisses, as love-struck and infatuated as a schoolboy, ready to promise her the world. “Anything.”

“Well, for now…” Sara drifts off suggestively, tracing a finger across his lips and then probing between them. “I think I’ll just settle for some reciprocity.”

Leonard doesn’t have to be asked twice. ‘Reciprocity’ is his goddamn middle name, especially after _that_ , and so in a matter of seconds he has flipped their positions, pressed Sara back against the couch in a semi-sitting, semi-slouching position, pried apart her legs, and settled in at his favorite meal. It’s like religion, the way her hands grasp at his hair, the way she cries out, the way she grinds her soaking pussy against his mouth, hips bucking, desperate for his tongue.

She’s like religion, and Leonard is more than happy to get down on his knees to worship her.


End file.
